Pairing: Michael/Alex
Rating: Nc-17
Summary: The story of Alex and Michael, from S2-S3. Alex reflects on the events that brought them together, and thinks about where they are going.
Author's Notes: This was written originally for PrisonBreak fic exchange. The request was for romance/action and the three elements of twisted, staircases, and "in the palm of your hand
Disclaimer: I own nothing Prison Break related.

Love in the Time of Chaos

I had a plan when I went after the Fox River Eight, and it was a good plan.

I knew Michael was the key, so I focused all my attention on him. I tried to figure out how his mind worked, what motivated and moved him? I wondered what he cared about so I could use it against him.

I was fascinated by his mind and the way he seemed to always be thinking five steps ahead of everyone else. The genius behind using his body's tattoos to outline his entire escape plan.

Yes, I figured that out pretty quickly. Michael didn't just have the blueprints to the prison outlined on his body-he had the whole escape planned out. Right up to the end, or what would have been the end if things had worked out the way he'd wanted them to.

I was the first person to realize the depths of Michael's mind; how deep it went, how quick it was. He was a challenge to me, a puzzle that I wanted to figure out.

It was almost like a game in the beginning. I could analyze things better than anyone else in the bureau-which was one reason I was chosen to head this task force. And I could analyze Michael better than anyone else, too.

I kept thinking of what I would do if I were him, and then look for clues to support what I was thinking. When I thought of it as a game I could almost forget what I was supposed to do to Michael and his brother.

I was supposed to kill them.

For "The Company".

I didn't want to kill anyone. I had my fill when I killed Oscar Shales, though the son of a bitch deserved it. But when the company found out what I'd done they used that to get me to do their bidding.

It never stopped.

The more complicated things became, the more things spiraled out of control, the more they threatened me, and (more importantly) my family. So I did what I was told. I pushed forward, and kept trying to think of it as a game.

With very high stakes.

Sometimes it felt like we were playing chess. He'd make a move, I'd counter it. I'd anticipate his move, he'd anticipate mine.

Cat and mouse games. Twisted mind games. That's what we were playing..

He'd call me to taunt me about Oscar and what I had done. I'd tell him that I knew where he was going next before he'd even carried out his plan to get there.

The calls escalated -each of us trying to break the other. Michael used my words against me, saying "Sometimes things happen that are just-out of your control."

I used his attachment to his brother, the bizarre lengths he'd gone to get him out of prison, as leverage against him. I tried picking away at wounds that hadn't healed, like the physical abuse in Michael's past, and his abandonment issues.

Every time I'd hit a nerve he'd gasp and his breathing would become shallow.

It wasn't fair.

I didn't want to be fair, though. Didn't care if it wasn't fair. He had gotten into my head as much as I'd gotten into his. I was going insane from his voice in my head.

I wanted to return the favor.

I wanted to make him feel uncomfortable. More than that, I wanted him to be weak, defenses down, vulnerable.

And as much as I hated to admit it, I wanted to hear those noises he made as much as I wanted to hear what his responses would be.

I wanted him to gasp, and for his breath to hitch, and for him to show some fucking emotion!

I wanted him to fall apart.

************************

The more we played this game, the more obsessed I became.

He became all I thought about. Those damn tattoos that I had to look at over and over. I kept thinking how much I wanted to run my fingers over them, how much I wanted to touch his skin.

I started having dreams about the way he looked at me the first time I saw him in the elevator. Scared but fascinated. As though he couldn't believe that I had figured out his plan. Then I thought of the way he looked the time I tracked him down to that warehouse and I ended up in the cage. He looked smug, but with a certain respect. I had been able to track him further and faster than anyone else had.

But in his eyes I saw something strange. I saw that this twisted game we were playing was becoming his obsession too. And he wasn't just concerned with winning.

He was enjoying playing with me.

*******************

I fought my feelings for a long time. I was half out of my mind anyway, due to the pressures on me by the company, the pills, and my son's car 'accident' that was really a warning by the company. Everything was cause for fear.

I was afraid all the time for my family, and my desperation fueled my obsession. If I focused on Michael I didn't have time to worry about anything else.

I tried to center my thoughts on the chase, but at night I couldn't stop myself from thinking what it'd be like to see the man whose eyes burned so hotly with passion and intelligence lying next to me in bed. I couldn't stop thinking of how he would feel pressed against me, I knew how his breath would feel against my ear, how the currents of electricity would pass between us.

I felt that current when we were in the same room.

I felt it whispered between us over the phone.

Desire.

*************************

In the end we outsmarted ourselves, and ended up in hell, together. Sona was actually a prison, but its conditions made you feel as though you were in hell.

I wanted us to work together, wanted to work with him-to survive, to escape. He told me he hated me for killing his father and wanted nothing to do with me.

But fate has a way of stepping in sometimes, and Michael needed my help sooner than he thought he would.

Michael had come far from the passive (though cagey) engineer who walked into Fox River with no real idea how to take care of himself.

But he wasn't a street fighter, he wasn't a killer.

I was.

So when he was called to fight (in the bizarre throwback to the bouts in the coliseum that the inmate in charge allowed)-I knew there was a good chance he'd be killed.

Sure enough, even though he won the fight he refused to kill the other inmate. The other man grabbed a knife someone threw to him and went to stab Michael with it.

I could see it happen before it did. I could feel it. It was too late to warn Michael, so I grabbed the man and killed him myself.

Michael seemed horrified and grateful at the same time.

I thought we were going to put the past behind us then. After all, I had saved his life, had proven my worth. But Michael hadn't really forgiven me.

I found that out when he sent me on a wild goose chase to find a black pen, which he said was going to aid in our escape plans.

When he moved to his new cell he left it behind.

I saw a million shades of red at that, and I felt the tenuous hold I had on reality start to slip. I was going through withdrawal, I was hallucinating about people I had killed, and I was hearing their voices.

The only thing that had kept me going was the thought that Michael and I were getting out of there together.

His betrayal was the last straw.

I walked into his cell, holding up the pen that he had left behind.

"Aren't you looking for this?" I asked, as I kept moving closer to him. Michael didn't like small or enclosed spaces, and I made sure that I pushed until he was backed up against the wall. Until there was no space between us.

That's when I took out the shiv that I had and drove it into the wall next to his face.

"You think you can play me? Do you think you can dupe me like you did to Sucre, Tweener, and Haywire? You think I can't see through you? "

"I don't know what you're talking about," Michael used the calm voice I'd often used myself when faced with a hostage situation. You try and get the person with the weapon to calm down and then you disarm them.

I laughed at him.

"Do you think I don't know what you're doing? You're forgetting what I was, what I used to do! You're not going to talk me out of killing you by whispering in my ear."

Instead I whispered in HIS ear, "You're breathing by my grace, Michael. Remember that. Because if you ever, ever try anything like this with me again I'll put this shiv right between your eyes." That speech exhausted me, and I kept one hand on Michael's neck and one on the side of his face.

"Do you understand?"

I could see the fear in his eyes as he nodded that he did, but I didn't let go of him. I wanted him to tell me he was sorry that he had done that to me, I wanted some sign that I meant something to him.

Nothing.

In desperation and anger I started shaking him, and he started yelling, "What do you want from me, Alex?"

"Show me something! Feel something! Michael-" I dropped the shiv on the floor. I was an inch away from his face, and I kissed him. As hard as I could. I wanted him to fight me, I wanted him to react, I just…wanted him.

I could feel his shock as he drew in his breath, and then he did push, and try to fight with me. That spurred me on further, as I could feel the frustration and anger and desire start to well forth in me.

He started to respond-I could feel him break, just a little.

Then he pushed me away.

"Alex, you can come with me. I won't stop you. But please, just leave now."

There it was, the mask put firmly back in place.

Like nothing ever happened.

"Michael," I whispered, totally drained by now."Don't you ever get tired of pretending? Don't you get tired of the masks?"

He didn't answer, but I thought I saw a flicker of response in his eyes.

***************

That night was unbearably hot. Even hotter than the day had been, if that were possible.

I couldn't sleep. I was sweating, even though I'd showered and was sleeping only in my shorts. I kept replaying the earlier scene with Michael in my head.

What the fuck was I thinking, going in there with a shiv? I was really losing my mind.

That must be it.

And then I followed it up with a kiss! Fuck!

I found myself getting hard thinking about the kiss. The way Michael's lips felt so soft, so impossibly soft. I thought of how warm his breath was in that brief moment he opened up and let me in.

I pounded my pillow out of frustration. Goddamn him, why did he never let himself be open?

More importantly, why should I care?

I was interrupted from these thoughts by the sound of my cell door clanging shut.

Cell doors are a mere formality in Sona. Most people don't even close them, since they're only locked in extreme emergencies. I had mine open to try and get some kind of cross current of air.

I looked up and glared. What the fuck was going on now? I knew who the figure was before he stepped into the light.

Michael.

"Michael? What are you doing here?"

He said nothing, just continued staring at me, advancing slowly toward the bed.

I looked at his hands to see if he was hiding a weapon. He wasn't, but he looked distressed.

He looked angry, and seemed as though he'd been crying.

"Do you have any idea how much it takes for me to hold it together?" He asked quietly, and for a moment I thought he might either lunge at me or sob on my shoulder.

"Do you?" He demanded again. Without waiting for an answer he continued.

"I am always the one who has to do it all. ALL OF IT! Nobody else! I have to make not just one or two plans. I have to make three and four plans! Do you know how hard that it is? To always be the one who has to keep everyone and everything together?"

"Yes, Michael, I do."

"Then how the fuck could you be surprised when I can't react to things? I can't afford the luxury of a nervous breakdown! I can't get enraged, or distraught, or lose myself in drugs! People's lives are depending on me-all the time, Alex! All. The. Fucking .Time!"

He was shaking then, and I reached out to try and touch his shoulder, but he moved away.

"I can't accept comfort. I can't accept anything that will make let down my guard. I just can't."

I'd sat up by then, so I pulled him down so he could sit with me on the bed. I could tell that this was a last ditch effort at bravado. He was trying to convince himself that he wouldn't break down because he was so sure he would.

"Michael-you don't have to be responsible for everything. I can help you. I understand you, I understand how your mind works, remember?" He smiled a little at that, and I went on. "You will break down if you go on like this. Trying to do this on your own, in this place-it's just not possible." This time when I touched his shoulder he didn't push me away. He leaned into the touch, slightly.

"You've got to let out what you're feeling. You can't be an automaton, shutting yourself down. No one can."

"Alex, I don't let myself feel anything. I haven't for so long I don't think I remember how to feel." He sighed. "The only thing I feel is numb."

Now, I knew this wasn't totally true. I saw the way he'd looked at me in the past, and those weren't the looks of someone who was numb inside. Even today I felt something when we kissed.

"Michael, what about today? It seemed like you felt something."

He looked down and said, "I don't know what the hell I was doing."

"Michael," I said quietly. "You knew what you were doing. You were feeling something. For me."

He jumped up and started yelling. "Fuck, Alex! Why do you do that? You push and push, all the time. You want me to fall apart now, just like you did when you were chasing me before. You want to break me, Alex? You want to see me break?"

At that point he was grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me. His whole body started shaking, and all the pain and tears he'd held in so long came out with the force of a tidal wave.

"Fine! I'm broken! Did you get what you wanted?"

I grabbed his wrists then, and pushed him back down on the bed. He tried pulling away, and then he did what I had done earlier.

He kissed me.

It wasn't a tentative kiss. It was a hard, almost searing kiss. And he didn't stop. In between kisses he kept repeating: "You want me to break, I'm breaking Alex."

I told him it was alright, whispered it over and over.

He ran his hands down my body in a frenzy, as though he was starved to touch, to feel. He was clinging, he was desperate. He was rough, frantic.

When he reached down and pulled off my shorts I nodded, telling him to keep going.

He hurriedly pulled off his own shorts and the top he always wore to cover his tattoos.

When he pressed his body against me I groaned.

When he slid up and down my body with his own I arched into his touch and grasped at him. I finally had that body I had been thinking about for so long close to me, and I wanted to take him all in. As much as I could, as far as I could, for as long as we could .

We kept rubbing our bodies together, the friction causing precum on both of us, and he slid his hand up and down both of our cocks. He just looked at me without saying a word, but I knew what he wanted.

I opened my legs to let him in, and he spread the precum on his fingers and pushed inside. When the heat from his fingers, and his rhythmic fingering gave him enough lubrication he pushed himself inside me.

I know the sounds that came out of us that night were a combination of passion and pain, of longing and need.

For the first time in a long time our defenses came down, and we were able to feel.

**********

Things got complicated as time went on. Plan after plan fell apart. Whistler,the man "The Company" wanted Michael to break out of SONA,was a kept trying to pretend he was just a fisherman, even though we knew he wasn't. One night, as we were working on our latest plan of escape he told such an elaborate story that I finally told him to stop embarrassing himself. "We're not a couple of chicks in a bar that you're trying to impress, so stop it. You work for the company; you're doing what you're told to do. So, unless Michael feels the need to hear this you can just stop," I looked at Michael, who was smiling for the first time since we came here. "Do you want to hear this crap, Michael?" He shook his head no, and he was still smiling.

I liked to see that smile, liked knowing that I was the one able to do that for him. So sometimes, when Whistler was being especially paranoid I'd say something I knew would make Michael laugh.

Anything to take some of the pressure off of him.

We had sex often after that first night-we both told ourselves it was a way to take the edge off, to keep us sane. To let us feel something besides tension, pressure and panic.

Whenever I would see the fatigue in Michael's eyes get to be too heavy, or I felt he was going to break when one more thing went wrong I'd touch his back in a certain way and he'd know what I was saying.

We met under the staircases mostly, only rarely daring to have sex in either one of our cells.

Sometimes I'd grab him from behind and just take him, knowing when he needed to surrender and just let me take over. I liked being able to give him that comfort. That with me he could just let go of the pressure and the need to be in control when he needed to. I loved being inside him, feeling a part of him. Even more than that, I loved having him inside me, pulling me nearer to him. Each time brought us closer, until it seemed sometimes like we were fused together.

**************

The night he found out that Sara was murdered he fell apart in my arms; that was the night that changed everything.

That's the night we fell in love.

I just wanted to comfort him, holding him as the sobs wracked his body, but he was clinging to me, desperate. I started touching him everywhere-wanting him to feel contact, feel connected. I started at the soles of his feet and traveled up his legs, inside his thighs, up his stomach, his chest, his neck. He grabbed my face with his hands and kissed me like he was drowning and I had the only life preserver.

He whispered to me, "I want to be inside you. I need to feel you, Alex."

When he was inside I felt him trying to push deeper, go further. He laid frantic kisses all over my face, and my neck, my chest. He kept asking, "Are you real? Are you real?"

I kept saying, "I'm real, Michael. And I'm not going anywhere. You have me in the palm of your hand," and to prove it I traced his palm lightly with my fingers and kissed it as softly as I could.

*****************

We didn't say we loved each other then, but I knew it the way I always knew what Michael was thinking. Like he knew what I was thinking. We had an unspoken communication between us, and the longer we were together, the less we had to talk.

I could see that Michael felt relieved at not having to explain himself. He was so tired of having to do that.

Whistler started to have suspicions about the two of us around that time.

One day Whistler was panicking about the latest change of plans, and he kept questioning Michael about what we were going to kept saying, "Please leave me alone. Let me think. Please leave me alone."

I couldn't stand it anymore, "Didn't you fuckin' hear him, Whistler? Leave him alone. Now." I kept my voice low, but he knew I would seriously hurt him if he didn't stop.

He put his hands up and backed away, but not before giving me a strange look and mumbling to himself.

"Alex," Michael used his exasperated voice, but I could tell he was grateful.

"You're tired," I observed, brilliantly.

"I am. I'm tired of choices, tired of consequences."

"Don't think about it right now," I said, knowing that one of the consequences he was thinking about was Sara. I had my own consequences and choices to think about as well. "We'll have time to think about it all when we're out of here."

****************

And we did get out, finally. After so many failed attempts and thwarted plans.

I could see Linc hated the fact that I was there; he was happy when there were not enough tanks for us to breathe in underwater until we could reach the boat, assuming I wouldn't be able to come with them. Michael surprised him when he said, "Alex and I will share one, Linc."

Linc didn't even want to let me put the picture of my son in the plastic bag they were using to keep valuables dry while we were underwater. Michael took it from me. Grabbing the bag from Linc, he slipped the picture of Cameron inside.

Linc was clearly confused and seemed to get angrier and angrier while we were on the boat. When we got to the spot where we were supposed to exchange Wheeler for LJ, Linc took out a gun and stated that he was going to kill me for having killed his father.I told him I hadn't known the man was his if I had, though,I still would've had to have killed him. The Company gave me no choice,it was either his family or mine. I chose mine. He would've done the same.

"Linc, think about what you're doing," Michael whispered. I recognized the whisper. It was the same one he'd used on me that day in the cell. He was trying to talk him down. "Linc, Alex helped keep me alive inside Sona. We wouldn't have escaped; we wouldn't be here to get LJ back if Alex hadn't helped us."

Linc had wavered at that, but didn't lower the gun.

Whistler chose that moment to escape.

I saw my chance and fled as well.

A part of me hoped that I'd hear Michael's footsteps behind me, but I knew that I wouldn't.

He'd stay and make sure that LJ was safe, that Linc was safe.

I also knew I would see him again.

Destiny would bring us back together.

Nothing so powerful could be kept apart for long.

Nothing so powerful could be broken by something as mundane as reality.

Love is a thread; it either breaks or it doesn't.

We weren't breaking-not in this lifetime.